


Hurt and Comfort

by Jojo_In_The_Shadows



Category: Call the Midwife
Genre: F/F, Gen, Mild Hurt/Comfort, Musical References, Phobias, graphic injury description
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-05-28
Updated: 2019-12-06
Packaged: 2020-03-20 16:16:24
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 15,848
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18996133
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Jojo_In_The_Shadows/pseuds/Jojo_In_The_Shadows
Summary: A series of one-shots exploring how our girls are there for each other regardless.Modern AU, with the gang starting their nursing degrees at university. I don't know where this will go.





	1. The Power of Music

**Author's Note:**

> Modern AU, the girls are sharing student digs in their first year at uni.

Patsy hadn’t laughed like this since god only knows when. And she was doing a surprisingly good job of ignoring the rumbling of nerves that realisation was evoking. Somehow, with this gaggle of girls she’d only known for 7 weeks, in this slightly dilapidated kitchen, she felt at ease. And you know what, she was ok with that.

 

It had been an afternoon of revelations. Her housemates and their next-door neighbours, who were also on their course, had congregated in the kitchen of their student digs. It was becoming a regular Sunday occurrence. You see their kitchen had an enormous TV, courtesy of Patsy’s father. She’d been mortified when it was delivered. But it was perfect for film nights, and Delia and Val enjoyed co-opting it for Mario Kart races and Call of Duty battles.

 

Today they were doing a Youtube binge, educating each other on their music tastes.

 

Trixie had taken them on a journey through the bizarre world of 80s pop videos. Culture Club, Wham, A-ha, Pet Shop Boys, the lot. Her affinity with Madonna in her glory days was news to no-one. Val got most of them up air-guitaring to a bit of classic rock. To everyone’s surprise, Barbara had put on Slim Shady.

 

“You know he’s, like, properly homophobic right?” Delia piped up, dropping down onto the sofa next to Patsy. The red head desperately tried to ignore the way her skin tingled where their bodies met. The girl didn’t have much choice in her proximity after all, there were a lot of them trying to squish onto 2 sofas and a settee.

 

Barbara didn’t turn away from the screen, her head bobbing to the rhythm of the lyrics. “Don’t be silly Delia, he’s great!”

 

“I’m not being silly,” Delia leaned over Patsy to grab the remote from the arm of the sofa. “Listen to this bit coming up, you’ll see.” She turned the volume up and angled herself to watch Barbara, which for some reason required her to lean against the red head beside her. Patsy swallowed hard, watching the screen intently and trying to focus on the lyrics as the screen was taken over by two kids watching a pair of rhinos mating on their own television set.

 

“… _But if we can hump dead animals and antelopes_

_Then there’s no reason that a man and another man can’t elope…”_

 

Patsy’s eyebrows shot up as two men appeared before a wedding officiant and as they moved in to kiss, Eminem jumped up between them, shoving them apart.

 

“Noooo!” Barbara exclaimed. “But he just seemed like fun!”

 

“Really Babs?!” Val scoffed from her cross-legged position on the floor. “The man just said he’d locked a dead Dr Dre in his basement.”

 

Barbara clapped her hands over her mouth, clearly distraught. “Oh no. If I’d realised I would never have put it on, gosh you must all think I’m a terrible person.” She reached across the gap between the sofas to grasp Patsy’s arm. “Patsy, Delia, Val, I am so sorry if I’ve offended you!”

 

Patsy’s spine stiffened. “I’m not offended. Why would I be offended?” she tried to ask evenly, though she had to clear her throat to manage it. Shit shit shit. She thought she’d done a good job of hiding her sexual orientation.

 

“Because you’re a…”

 

“Give me the controller Barbara, we need something cheesy after that I think.” Once again Delia leaned over Patsy, and the red head couldn’t help a defensive flinch. Why did the girl insist on invading her personal space all the time?!

 

The welsh girl quickly typed something into the search bar as she settled back into her seat, the search result provoking whoops and a couple of groans, although everyone scrambled to their feet. Delia discreetly squeezed Patsy’s arm, her eyebrows raised, Patsy presumed silently asking if she was all right. The redhead simply waved her off, shoving the girl out of her seat to join the others lining up as a male voice called “ _It’s time to begin so count me in, 5 6 7 8!”_

 

Patsy couldn’t help laughing as all her friends started rocking from side to side in a line-dance to the bright poppy accompaniment of Steps. She made sure to keep her eyes moving, trying to watch everyone equally, but she just kept getting drawn back to Delia. I mean, those hips…

 

The young brunette must have caught her watching, a cocky grin spreading across her face. She cocked her head, beckoning Patsy to join them. Patsy shook her head. There was no way she was getting up to dance! But she was perfectly happy to just sit and watch and enjoy the energy in the room.

 

Apparently Delia had a thing for crap 90s pop. Take That, B*Witched, Back Street Boys, S Club 7, everyone was throwing themselves into it with abandon. She’d never seen so much prancing around by people over the age of 7 without the presence of significant amounts of alcohol. And she genuinely hadn’t laughed like this since she was a child.

 

Eventually Delia put on Wannabe. Someone squealed before people started bowing out, leaving Delia, Trixie, Barbara and Lucille on the floor.

 

“Come on Pats!” Delia grabbed Patsy’s wrist and gently tugged. “We need a Ginger Spice!”

 

“Not on your life Busby!” Patsy cried over the beginning of the music, grinning from ear to ear. “I’m happy to sit back and enjoy the show.”

 

“Oh so you want a show do you?” Delia smirked. “All right, I’ll give you a show.” She sauntered over to the other sofa. “Come on Chummy, show us your best Geri Halliwell.”

 

Chummy leapt up clapping, falling into line with the others, Barbara unwrapping a lollipop while Trixie and Lucille quickly pulled her hair into bunches.

 

If Patsy hadn’t known better she’d think that what followed had been choreographed and vaguely rehearsed, despite Chummy’s clumsiness. Perhaps they’d just watched the video too many times. Trixie was in her element posing, Lucille’s high-kick had a suitable amount of attitude, Chummy bumbled about but seemed to be having so much fun it was endearing. Barbara was grinning from ear-to-ear, and Delia threw Patsy a cheeky wink before performing an impressive back-flip, although Patsy flinched when she kicked the lightshade. Val even got dragged up to do a passable impression of the rich old lady who featured at the end of the video.

 

When the song ended, the quintet legged it out the kitchen door, screeching and giggling, returning only when the remaining friends applauded from their seats.

 

A grinning Delia flopped back down on the sofa, out of breath, a light sheen of sweat glistening on her forehead. Patsy thought she looked…no, nope, she was not going there!

 

Instead, she squinted at the brunette. “I’m starting to think you’re a little off your rocker Delia.”

 

The girl laughed. “All the best people are.”

 

Normally Patsy wouldn’t agree with a statement like that, but she was considering making an exception in this case.

 

“I don’t know about the rest of you,” Trixie was fanning her face with both hands, glaring at a lock of hair that had dared to fall out of place and into her eyes, “but I rather think we need something less energetic next. Who hasn’t shared?”

 

“Patsy hasn’t,” Barbara mumbled around her lollipop.

 

“Oh,” Patsy waved her hand dismissively. “I’m sure you’ve all had more than enough of my rubbish taste in music.” She desperately tried not to fidget under the scrutiny of every person in the room, especially Delia, she could feel her watching her too closely.

 

“I wouldn’t call your jazz collection ‘rubbish taste’,” Lucille cocked her head at Patsy from the other sofa. “I find it quite soothing personally.”

 

“Well, yeah, it’s nice,” conceded Val. “But surely that’s not all you listen to?”

 

The loose thread in the knee of Patsy’s jeans was suddenly rather fascinating as she shrugged. “Pretty much.”

 

It wasn’t all she listened to. Soft jazz was for when she just wanted background noise. When she was feeling too much she had a whole other music collection that had to be played as loudly as possible, so unless she knew she was home alone she could only listen to it on her headphones.

 

And right now, Delia really needed to stop staring at her like that.

 

As if reading her thoughts, Delia turned back to the rest of the room. “Lucille? Cynthia? Care to share?”

 

Lucille’s face went blank, her palm smacking onto her forehead. “I can’t remember what I wanted to play!”

 

“Must’ve been a blinder,” Val muttered with a grin. Lucille swatted her round the back of the head. “Oi watch it!”

 

Cynthia raised her hand haltingly. “I have something I’d like to play, if that’s all right?”

 

“Absolutely Cynthia!” Delia sat up smiling, passing the controller along.

 

“It’s one of my favourites,” stated Cynthia, before hesitating. “But it will probably change the mood quite a bit. Is that okay?”

 

“Well now I’m curious!” Val straightened up against the sofa.

 

“Me too,” chimed in Chummy, taking the controller and passing it down. “Go ahead old thing.”

 

Cynthia chewed her lips as she took the controller and started typing the band’s name.

 

Patsy’s focus had drifted to Delia, seeing as Cynthia was sat on the far side of her, and she found herself admiring the freckles scattered across the welsh girls nose. So it was quite a shock when the girl gasped and clutched at Patsy’s arm.

 

“No fucking way!” cried Val.

 

“What?” Patsy stuttered, still not quite back in the room.

 

“Are you kidding me?!” Delia almost shouted. “Cynthia ‘The Mouse’ Miller, you dark horse! You listen to Disturbed?!”

 

“Yes I do,” Cynthia declared, sitting up proudly.

 

“And that’s a big deal why?” asked Lucille.

 

“Because they’re a heavy metal band!” Val clarified. “Cynthia is a bloody metal head!”

 

“Oh god.” Trixie groaned, flopping dramatically against the sofa. “I can’t stand metal.”

 

“If she’s chosen the song I think she has,” Delia waved two pairs of crossed fingers in the air. “Then it doesn’t matter if you like metal or not, trust me.” She lifted a hopeful eyebrow at Cynthia, who with a delighted grin clicked on the video for _Sound Of Silence._

 

“Oh how delightful!” clapped Chummy as the video loaded. “I love the original, Pa’s handyman used to play it when he cleaned the swimming pool when I was a girl.”

 

“Urghhh!” Trixie groaned again. “Not ‘Hello darkness, my old friend’! That’s so overdone these days, it’s all over the memes.”

 

“Trixie, will you please shut up!” cried Barbara, stunning everyone. “We all sat through your choice of music, now give someone else a chance will you?”

 

Patsy could feel Delia shaking with suppressed laughter as she leaned into her conspiratorially. “I told you she must have some bite to her.” She sat back and turned up the volume on the tele.

 

The piano playing was beautiful, but Patsy was instantly floored when the baritone voice softly rumbled out of the speakers, through the air and straight into her bones. It caught the attention of the hairs on her arms as well. Just from the first phrase, she knew this voice held a power she could never comprehend.

When the guitars joined in to compliment the voice, every single hair on her body stood to attention, prickling down her back. Her heart began to beat harder and her breath slowed, as though she was trying to inhale and savour the intense peace that washed over her, an affect she was not unfamiliar with. The red head dared a glance around the room, every one of her friends seemingly transfixed, mouths open and breath as shallow and reverent as her own.

And then the music swelled. Every occupant of that room drew a deep breath as a wave of emotion swept over them. It overwhelmed Patsy entirely, unbidden tears welled in her eyes and her chest shuddered. The lyrics didn’t matter, she couldn’t even make them out, it was just the entirety of the piece.

 

Shit shit shit.

 

She couldn’t do this here. The pressure was growing, too much feeling rising up through her solar plexus and pressing into her throat. She just needed to breathe. Breathe, and detach herself from the music, make it through the song and then excuse herself, hoping the others didn’t notice her distress.

 

Shit.

 

\- - - - - - - - - -

 

Delia felt the second swell of the music like a punch in the gut. God she loved this song. It took her breath away every fucking time, and fuck did the sound system on this TV make it even better!

 

But then she felt Patsy shaking next to her. She was well aware of Patsy’s aversion to being observed, and so she tried to watch her discreetly out of the corner of her eye.

 

The older girl was sitting so tensely, arms wrapped tight around her chest, that she’d started trembling. If she was breathing at all it was extremely shallow. Her eyes glistened as she stared fixedly forward, unblinking, but when a tear toppled over her eyelashes and down her cheek Delia had to do something to comfort this person she was coming to care about rather a lot. Gently, so as not to startle Patsy, she nudged her knee against her thigh. But the red head pulled away as though burned, impossibly tensing further, her breath now quick and erratic, more tears tracking down her cheeks. Delia cursed herself, trying to grasp Patsy’s forearm, hoping to convey that she was safe, but unfortunately the third and final swell of the song hit at that moment and Patsy fled. She stood from the sofa, hunched to make herself small and taking seemingly calm and measured steps out the door, but Delia knew without a doubt that she was fleeing. As the music faded away she caught the last couple of stumbling thumps on the stairs before the bathroom door clicked shut.

 

A stunned silence lay over the room, everyone staring at the now blank TV screen, trying to process their own experience of the song. Except Cynthia. She looked devastated as she glanced between the door and Delia. All Delia could do was offer her a small smile, trying to convey that she was not to blame for Patsy’s emotional reaction, as she calmly stood and followed Patsy out of the kitchen.

 

Nearing the top of the stairs she could just make out the sound of shuddering sobs. Her heart broke a little at hearing her friend in such distress.

 

Fortunately Delia had some knowledge of Patsy’s difficulties, and her past. She got the impression Patsy was rather shocked with herself for opening up so readily to someone she’d only known such a short time. Delia took it as a compliment.

 

Knowing Patsy may not take kindly to the intrusion, Delia steeled herself and gently tapped on the door. She heard a gasp, a heavy sniff and a quiet curse.

 

“Just a minute,” she called through the door, voice a little too bright, a false smile probably in place.

 

“Pats, it’s me,” Delia called back, keeping her voice calm and soft. “Are you ok?”

 

“Absolutely fine Deels, I’ll be down in a mo, I just…” Patsy’s voice began to break and was replaced by the sound of running taps.

 

“Patsy it’s all right. I know you’re upset, I just wanted you to know I’m here if you want some company, or I can leave you be and keep the others out of the way?”

 

A muffled sob rang clearly through the door, followed by a soft thud that may have been Patsy leaning against the wood, and a hissing noise as she slid down to the floor. Delia’s heart clenched.

 

“Listen to me sweetheart,” she tried again, placing a hand against the panel, hoping to transmit her sincerity through the barrier between them. “If you want me to stay then just unlock the door. But if you want space that is absolutely fine, I’ll wait 30 seconds and then go away.”

 

She started counting silently. She didn’t want to do anything to pressure the red head, but at the same time she wanted to make sure she gave her the opportunity to accept her offer. When she reached 30 she took a step away from the door.

 

“All right Pats, text me if you need anything. I’ll look in on you later.”

 

She was aware of a shuffling in the bathroom, but she started down the stairs, respecting Patsy’s silent request to be left alone. She even ignored the snick of the lock opening, hoping the older girl was making a break for her bedroom.

 

“Delia?”

 

The broken whisper though she couldn’t ignore. She turned to see a raw faced Patsy peering through the small opening in the bathroom door. Delia wanted to run to her and wrap her up tight, but instead forced herself to climb back up the stairs calmly.

 

“I’m here.” She held her hand out, waiting to see if Patsy was all right with touch. She released a breath when Patsy tentatively hooked her index finger around Delia’s pinky, then carefully gripped the rest of her fingers while Delia’s thumb stroked the back of her hand. “Do you want to go to your room?”

 

Patsy nodded, unable to look Delia in the eye. So Delia lead the way, pushing open the only door in the corridor with no decoration or adornment, and nudged Patsy to sit on the bed while she closed the door quietly behind them.

 

When she turned back to the bed she had to stifle her own tears. The young woman who first caught her eye for always being so poised and confident was nowhere to be seen. In her place sat a lost and hurting little girl, shoulders slumped, head down and fiddling with her fingers. Delia knelt before her, careful not to crowd her.

 

“What’s going on sweetheart?”

 

Patsy shrugged. A fresh tear tracked down her face.

 

Delia gave Patsy’s knee a squeeze. “Would you like a cwtch?”

 

Patsy’s eyes briefly flicked to her own, and Delia thought she saw a flash of want before Patsy’s head dropped again. After a breath, she just shrugged. But Delia had an inkling.

 

“Can I have a cwtch?”

 

Hesitantly, the older girls arms wrapped around Delia’s waist, her hands resting lightly on her lower back. Delia knelt up and pulled Patsy close, one hand stroking up and down her back. She felt Patsy quake against her, her arms wrapping tighter around her.

 

“You’re safe cariad. Let it out if you can.”

 

The red head buried her face against Delia’s neck, releasing a shaking breath, her body shuddering as she quietly sobbed.

 

Delia pressed a kiss to her hair, holding her tight. “That’s it sweetheart, I’ve got you,” she whispered.

 

It took some time for Patsy’s tears to peter out. Eventually she sat up and groaned, rubbing at her eyes in frustration. “I’m sorry,” she muttered under her breath.

 

“Don’t you dare apologise Patience Mount,” Delia warned as she stroked Patsy’s hair away from her face. “Now, can you tell me what brought that on? Is there an anniversary coming up?’

 

Patsy shook her head.

 

“Are you stressed about the course?”

 

Another shake. “No.”

 

“Had another argument with your dad?”

 

“No Delia, I don’t fucking know why I’m fucking crying!” Patsy shouted.

 

Delia held her hands up defensively, sitting back on her heels. “Ok. Ok, I’m sorry I shouldn’t be pushing you. You don’t need to tell me anything.”

 

Dropping her head into her hands and tugging at her hair, Patsy forcibly expelled a breath. “But that’s the problem! There isn’t anything to tell, I really don’t know why that song made me cry!”

 

The welsh girl gently untangled Patsy’s fingers from her hair. “What did you think of it? The song?”

 

The redhead seemed lost in the middle distance for a moment, then shrugged and gently shook her head. “It’s beautiful.”

 

“Well that’s a relief,” Delia chuckled. “I was worried you were crying because you thought it was dreadful!”

 

She caught a flash of Patsy’s fish-hook smile before she rubbed her palms across her face.

 

“That voice, it just…” Patsy sighed. “I don’t know how to describe it. It’s like it tore me open, and left everything about me exposed and good god does that sound melodramatic.” She hid her face in her hands.

 

“Not in the slightest cariad.” Delia got up to sit beside Patsy on the bed, tenderly rubbing her back. “That’s just the power of music. It can make you joyful, sad, angry…And if you’re sensitive to it then the right song, or wrong one depending on how you look at it, can absolutely devastate you.”

 

Patsy nodded. “My mother was a muso,” she smiled. “She said the best composers could capture the entire spectrum of the human condition. I was too young to understand when she said it, but I’m starting to see what she meant.”

 

Delia glanced at the framed photo of a pretty blonde woman on Patsy’s bedside table as she reached over to squeeze her hand.

 

Patsy offered her a small smile in return. “I am sorry though, truly, that you had to put up with me like this.”

 

The brunette groaned. “Really Patsy, stop apologising! You have every right to be sad at any time, and I am more than willing to be there for you. You don’t need to go through any of this alone.”

 

“I don’t deserve someone as lovely as you,” Patsy muttered, squeezing her hand back.

 

“Yes, you do,” Delia insisted with raised eyebrows. “You deserve to be loved Patsy.”

 

The red head’s reaction was instantaneous. Her jaw clenched, nostrils flared and eyes filled with tears. She dropped her head quickly but Delia saw it all.

 

“Look at me cariad.”

 

Patsy shook her head. So Delia resumed her position on the floor, gently pulling Patsy to her, carding her fingers through the girl’s hair.

 

“Patience Elizabeth Mount, you deserve to have your needs met. You deserve to have your desires considered. You deserve to be looked after…” Patsy’s whole body shook as a sob racked through her. Delia pulled her closer, hoping the physical connection would press home her words. “…To be cared for and about, to be supported. And you deserve to be loved.”

 

She drew Patsy’s head from it’s hiding place against her shoulder. The girl’s eyes were tight shut, tears still trickling down her cheeks. Delia pressed her forehead to Patsy’s. “All those girls downstairs care about you. I care about you. Your dad might be a knob but he loves you. You deserve everything that everyone else in the world does. You have worth. You are valued Patsy. Do you understand me?”

 

“But what if I don’t?” Patsy whispered so quietly Delia almost missed it despite being so close.

 

Delia was under no illusion that telling Patsy just once would heal years of damage to her sense of self worth. The woman had had to emotionally raise herself from the age of 11 while mired in the depths of grief. This was never going to be easy. Fortunately, Delia was a patient person.

 

“All right then. Fred the handyman. Do you think he doesn’t deserve to be loved?”

 

“Of course not,” Patsy sniffed indignantly.

 

“Ok. What about chatterbox Winifred?”

 

Patsy expelled an amused snort. “No.”

 

“And that mean old battle-axe Sister Ursula? Surely she doesn’t deserve to be loved?”

 

The glower she received nearly made Delia giggle.

 

“Everyone deserves to be loved. Right?”

 

Looking away again Patsy nodded sheepishly.

 

“So why don’t you?”

 

The redhead sighed. “It isn’t as simple as all that Deels. Logically, rationally, I know you’re right, it’s just…”

 

“Knowing something and believing something are entirely different things,” Delia finished.

 

Patsy nodded.

 

“Well then it’s a good thing you’re pretty much stuck with me for the next 3 years, so I can keep telling you until you believe it for yourself.”

 

Patsy actually laughed at that.

 

“You’re pretty wonderful you know Pats. A bit of a snob sometimes,” Delia smirked. “But still wonderful.” She grinned widely at the redhead.

 

A shy smile was her reward. “How did you get so wise young’un?”

 

“Oi!” Delia swatted her knee. “Less of that thank you, I’m only four years younger than you.”

 

“Don’t remind me,” Patsy winced.

 

Delia filed away the reaction for another day. There would be plenty of time later to find out if Patsy was puritanical about age gaps. She really hoped she wasn’t.

 

“What do you want to do now?” She asked gently, noting that her friend seemed to be wilting. “Shall we go back downstairs? Or we could stay up here and cwtch?”

 

Patsy stroked an errant strand of Delia’s hair behind her ear. The contact made her fizzle a bit. “Would you be terribly offended if I had a lie down on my own? All this crying has given me a bit of a headache.”

 

“Not offended in the slightest.” Delia planted a kiss on Patsy’s forehead as she stood. “Take all the time you need.” She opened the door, knowing she now needed to reassure Cynthia that she had done nothing wrong.

 

“Deels?”

 

The welsh girl turned back to see Patsy fiddling with her fingers again before meeting her eye.

 

“Thank you.”

 

Delia beamed at the young woman. “Anytime.” She closed the door softly, reassured that her friend, at least for now, was going to be ok.


	2. Irrational Fear

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, several of you seemed to like the little universe from the previous instalment, so I've decided to run with it.
> 
> And I spent the last two months writing the 1st drafts of 4 short plays (whoop whoop!), and now I remember how bloody hard it is to write the stuff between dialogue in prose. Doh!

Delia Busby had a headache. Her eyes were sore, her neck was sore, her shoulders were sore. She knew she should take a break but she had too much revision left to do. For once she hadn’t left everything to a last minute cramming session, Patsy had made sure of that. But despite planning everything out carefully and studying hard for the last 3 weeks around lectures, seminars and practicals, she didn’t feel anywhere near ready for the end of term assessments.

Pushing away from the desk she stretched as hard as she could, arching her back and reaching for the ceiling. Groaning at the succession of pops and pings from her protesting joints and muscles, she glared at her textbook through bleary eyes. Two more pages, she bargained with herself. Two more pages and then she would go down and make herself some dinner. And by dinner she meant a packet of Tesco 30p noodles, one of the few things left in her cupboard in the kitchen.

She tucked her chair back in and drew a deep breath, steeling herself for this last push. She’d only read two more sentences when she felt a tickling on her forearm that made every hair on her body stand on end.

 

************

 

Patsy Mount groaned as she sullenly flicked through the remaining pages in the chapter. She considered herself a highly organised reviser but the last few weeks were kicking even her arse. She hoped Delia was doing ok. The girl had seemed increasingly stressed over the last few days and Patsy suspected she wasn’t eating properly.

Maybe her young welsh friend would appreciate a pizza break.

She picked up her phone and logged into the Domino’s website, but an ear piercing shriek made her drop the device and leap out of her door. She cleared the landing in two strides, reaching Delia’s door as it was flung open, the small brunette crashing into Patsy.

“Get it off me get it off me get it off me!”

The redhead tried to grab her flailing hands, but the girl was frantically hopping from foot to foot, batting at her arm.

“Delia what is it?”

“Sp sp spider!”

“It’s all right Delia, we’ll find it.” Patsy’s first instinct was to remove the girls jumper, so she grabbed the hem and lifted, hoping the creature would get caught in the fabric.

“No! No!” Delia cried. “It’ll get in my hair!”

Fair point, but she still needed to get the item of clothing off. Then she realised her height advantage, so grabbed the neck of the jumper and pulled straight up, her friend disappearing into the oversized garment and emerging from the bottom with tears streaming down her face. She glanced over the jumper but couldn’t see any offensive arachnids, so returned to her friend, brushing her hands over her torso. Nothing. Patsy dropped to her knees as Delia started to hyperventilate, the gasping breaths interspersed with tight whines. She swept her hands over the girl’s jogging bottoms, again to no avail.

“I can’t find anything Deels.”

“Pockets!” Delia squeaked.

Patsy pulled the pockets out of her trousers, vaguely noting the crashing of the front door downstairs. “Nothing darling.”

Rather than calming the young brunette this only seemed to distress her further, the hopping sped up, as did the hand-flapping, the whine heightening in pitch and her face reddening. Delia looked uncannily like a toddler in the final build up of a full blown paddy, which would’ve been hilarious if Patsy didn’t find it incredibly disturbing. She…cared…a lot, about this little welsh fireball but she was at a loss how to help her.

“It’s in my hair it’s in my hair it’s in my hair it’s in my hair!” Delia shrieked as footsteps pounded up the stairs.

“We heard a scream, what’s going on?”

Patsy tugged the band out of Delia’s hair, choosing to ignore Val and Lucille in the presence of more pressing matters. But the move startled Delia, the crown of her head colliding solidly with Patsy’s chin. She tried not to recoil from the blow but she couldn’t help it, her hand automatically coming to press against her smarting jaw.

“Oh Patsy! Are you all right?” Lucille cried, trying to grasp Delia’s shoulders.

“I’m fine,” Patsy mumbled, returning her attention to Delia, trying to get ahold on her hands. “Deels listen to me, I can’t check your hair for this spider if you can’t stay still.”

“A spider?!” Val scoffed. “All this for a spider?! Never had you down as a wuss Busby.”

She was silenced by a solid punch to the shoulder from Lucille.

“Don’t be a dick Valerie!”

Lucille gently grasped Delia’s face, ducking slightly to bring herself into the shorter woman’s eyeline. “Delia, precious, do you want to try an exercise to help you calm down?”

“I I I…don’t think…I can,” Delia gasped out between short, sharp breaths.

Patsy’s heart squeezed painfully at the scene before her, almost as painful as Delia’s fingers digging into her palms, knuckles white she was clutching at the redhead so hard. Christ she was useless, so very useless.

“Yes you can Delia, I promise you,” Lucille nodded encouragingly.

Delia eventually nodded back.

“Good girl. Now, try to concentrate. Take a breath, and tell me about something you can smell.”

Delia closed her eyes and took a long sniff of the air. It was an unsteady sniff but was probably the deepest breath she’d taken since the shriek. Her brow creased, and a small groan escaped her throat as she bit down on her lip.

A bolt of heat shot through Patsy as her brain short-circuited at the sight. Seriously Patience?! This isn’t the time!

“Barbara’s…lasagne!”

Lucille chuckled. “Does it smell good?”

“So good,” Delia drawled. “And I know…it…tastes better.”

“That’s a great start,” Lucille smiled. “Tell me what you can hear.”

“Delia’s eyes remained closed as she focused. “Patsy’s music.”

“Do you like Patsy’s music?”

The brunette nodded. “It’s…calming…It let’s me know she’s…home.”

Patsy’s throat tightened a little, just as she noted Delia’s grip starting to loosen. She’d forgotten about her music, she’d just put the jazz album on in the background. Did that mean Delia found her presence calming? Clearly not, seeing as it had taken Lucille distracting her with questions to stop her hyperventilating. Stay present Mount, come on!

“Something you can see?”

“This manky sodding carpet!”

Patsy snorted as Delia glared around her feet. She’d been meaning to talk to the landlord about that.

Lucille laughed aloud. “Yeah it’s pretty grim. Now how about something you can touch?”

A small thumb slipping beneath the cuff of her jumper made Patsy’s breath catch as it gently stroked over the skin. She watched a small smile appear on Delia’s almost calm face.

“Patsy’s jumper.” Her whole hand started to stroke the redheads forearm. “It’s really soft.”

The jumper was old and had been hidden at the back of Patsy’s wardrobe. It had belonged to her mother. Delia had insisted on raiding through Patsy’s clothes before a house party a few weeks ago and declared it a crime that Patsy didn’t wear it. The girl had nuzzled her shoulder many times that night. Surprisingly enough it was now Patsy’s favourite jumper.

“Well done Delia,” Lucille broke Patsy from her distraction as she pulled Delia into a side hug. “It’s a crude grounding exercise, usually you ask about taste as well but there’s not really anything in this hallway I’d want near my mouth or yours.”

Patsy thought she saw…no that was definitely her imagination…or did she actually? She thought she saw Delia’s eyes linger on her lips, just for a second, before averting her gaze to the floor, a light blush on her cheeks, but that could be explained away by the residual adrenalin because Delia was far too young, and having a panic attack to boot, so there was no way Patsy could be thinking like that for fucks sake!

“How do you feel Delia?” asked Lucille, squeezing the girl’s shoulder.

Delia’s face crumpling and fresh tears spilling down her face was the last thing Patsy expected, she thought Lucille had succeeded in calming her down.

“Right now, fucking embarrassed to be honest!” The welsh girl was instantly held tight by Lucille, while Patsy was left floundering. “I’m sorry for making such a stupid fuss!” She swiped furiously at her wet cheeks.

“None of that now,” Lucille cooed, one hand rubbing up and down Delia’s arm. “You’ve clearly got a proper phobia there, so don’t be sorry.”

Patsy zoned out as Lucille continued to reassure their friend. She wanted to be the one comforting Delia but might as well face it, everyone else was better at it than her, she had no idea where to start beyond giving Delia a hug.

“Pats?”

The timid voice pulled her from her spiralling thoughts. The watery blue of Delia’s eyes was so vivid against the red of her cheeks that Patsy’s breath caught. She cursed her own lack of interpersonal skills, she just could not read the look in those eyes.

“Pats? Would you…would you mind checking my hair for me?”

The redhead heaved a sigh of relief. Something practical she could do, now that was her forte. “Certainly Deels.”

Lucille released the younger woman and Patsy stepped closer. She began delicately carding her fingers through the thick strands, watching closely for any movement of little legs. She noted that Delia was swaying ever so slightly, her eyes closed and face relaxed as Patsy’s fingertips grazed lightly over her scalp. It made her feel warm to see the girl so much calmer.

She was distracted by the scent of Delia’s shampoo, something herbal she didn’t recognise, when the shorter woman stiffened, her hand clutching at the front of Patsy’s jumper.

“Deels?”

“Back of my neck,” she squeaked between clenched teeth.

The taller woman swept the mane of hair up away from her friends skin, turning her a little for better light. Delia refused to relinquish her grip on Patsy’s jumper while she examined the area carefully, while Patsy refused to admire the smattering of freckles across the top of Delia’s back as she risked a glance down the collar of the girls t-shirt, before gently lowering the dark locks over her shoulders.

“I am happy to confirm that you are 100% arachnid-free Miss Busby,” Patsy declared, standing straight and clasping her hands in front of her.

Delia practically deflated at the confirmation, slumping forward and pressing her forehead to Patsy’s shoulder.

Patsy should have anticipated the move, Delia had been increasingly tactile with her since Freshers week, but for some reason it still caught her off guard. A smaller pair of arms wrapping around her middle kicked her brain into gear and finally she held Delia tight.

The girl was trembling.

“Are you all right Deels?” Patsy murmured against the dark hair.

Delia nodded. “I just wish I knew where it’s gone,” she mumbled.

Patsy turned to glare at the huff behind her.

Valerie straightened up from where she was leaning, arms crossed, against the banister. “I’ll check your room shall I?”

Patsy didn’t miss the eye-roll as the local girl passed through the doorway. She’d be having words with her later.

“It was on my desk,” Delia called after Val, glancing nervously over Patsy’s shoulder.

“Blimey Busby, are you just living on Tesco cereal bars?”

Patsy sighed as Delia hid her face against her shoulder. It appeared her earlier concerns had been justified.

“Valerie!” Lucille marched into the room. “Will you please focus?”

Patsy found herself gently swaying, rubbing her cheek against Delia’s hair, listening intently to the quiet shuffling of her friends to distract herself from the rising feeling of contentment she felt at just holding the welsh girl like this.

“I’ve found it,” Lucille called.

“Oh for fucks sake Delia, it’s a tiny little money spider!”

The distinct sound of a slap reached Patsy’s ears.

“Owww-wah! Christ when did you get so violent?”

Patsy felt Delia’s shoulders lift with a small laugh.

“Delia?” came Lucille’s voice. “Is it all right if I use your mug to catch it?”

“No!” Delia squeaked, tensing and clutching at Patsy. “Please just kill it.”

“Are you sure? I’ll release it in our garden, it won’t be able to get to you again.”

All Delia managed was a whimper.

Patsy sighed, leaning back to meet her friends eye through the doorframe. “Better just kill it Lucille.”

Lucille’s brow furrowed, but she nodded, reaching for a tissue. She stood poised over Delia’s textbook, but appeared reluctant to complete the deed.

“Really?” Val exclaimed. “You’ve been beating me up all day but you can’t kill an incey wincey spider?”

The Jamaican girl turned and started pummelling her, Val raising her arms to protect her head.

“All right all right already!”

Lucille relented and swept her hair out of her face, glaring at her friend. “You deserve it Valerie Dyer, that spider doesn’t.”

Val glared back but snatched the tissue from Lucille and stood over the text book. “Sorry pal.” She wrapped the tissue around the unseen spider, and squeezed it tightly.

“It’s gone Deels,” Patsy whispered, Delia releasing a shuddering breath.

“Do you need to see it for confirmation Delia?” Val emerged from the room, brandishing the screwed up tissue.

Patsy jabbed a swift elbow into the woman’s ribs.

“Ooof! Not you and all?!”

“Thank you for your help Val, but now please kindly fuck off,” the redhead deadpanned.

“All right fine.” The Londoner started towards the stairs, before turning back with a look of enlightenment on her face. “Delia was this all a ruse to get the two hottest girls in the group to feel you up? Because if so then I salute you mate!”

Chaos erupted as Patsy turned to give her what for, only for Delia to lunge past her, red faced and hands set in claws. Fortunately Val had the wherewithal to leg it, followed closely by Lucille, Patsy grabbing Delia to prevent her going after them. A yelp as the door slammed suggested Valerie had not escaped unscathed.

“I’m going to deck you Dyer!” Delia screamed.

“You’re not the only one,” Patsy reassured, still trying to keep a firm hold of the antsy woman in her arms.

“I wasn’t doing anything of the sort Patsy I promise!” Delia stared into Patsy’s eyes defiantly.

The redhead pulled her in, running a soothing hand up and down her back. “I know Deels, I know.”

Kicking the skirting board, Delia dropped her head against Patsy’s shoulder. “I hate her.”

“Yup,” Patsy nodded.

“She’s a knob.

“You’ll just have to kick her arse at Mario Car,” suggested the redhead.

Delia straightened up, staring incredulously at Patsy. “Kart, Pats. It’s Mario Kart.”

The taller woman was losing the battle to keep the smirk off her face.

Delia pursed her lips and shook her head. “I hate you too.”

Patsy chuckled. She debated for a moment about asking her next question, but Delia had spent the last few months encouraging her to be more open with people, so she hoped she wouldn’t mind.

“Deels? May I ask what happened to make you so scared of spiders?”

She saw the fire ignite in Delia’s eyes before the girl even spoke and took a step back.

“Nothing!” The brunette bit. “Nothing fucking happened to make me scared of them, I didn’t get locked in the fucking cupboard under the stairs with them or run into a fucking web when I was a kid it’s a fucking phobia!”

“Don’t shout at me!” Patsy snapped, feeling only a flash of guilt for her own tone as Delia rubbed her hands over her face and groaned. “I wasn’t judging you, I was just curious.”

“I know,” Delia whined. “I’m sorry, it’s just a really touchy subject. I know they can’t harm me. It’s an entirely irrational fear and I just wish it would fuck off!”

Patsy reached out to take Delia’s hand, stroking her thumb along her knuckles. “It must make things difficult.”

“You have no idea. Living in the welsh countryside with arachnophobia is a fucking nightmare.” Delia stamped her foot. “ And I can’t even go to the Harry Potter studio tour because of it!”

“The injustice,” Patsy smirked.

The girl snorted before seeming to wilt where she stood. “God I’m so tired.”

“I’m not surprised after all that.” The redhead wrapped an arm around her shoulders and guided her towards her room. “You should probably get to bed.” She felt Delia resist as they reached the doorframe. “Deels?”

“I…umm…” Her lower lip started to quiver, her face quickly reddening as her eyes grew wet. “I don’t think I can go back in there tonight.”

“That’s ok,” Patsy reassured, stroking her back. “We can’t really set you up on the sofa in the kitchen though. Do you…do you want to come in with me?”

Delia’s eyes glanced across her face. “Are you sure that’s ok?”

Patsy shrugged.

A small smile appeared on Delia’s face. “Thank you.”

Gesturing for Delia to lead the way, Patsy took a deep breath. She hadn’t shared a room with anyone since the end of fifth form at school. But she could do this, it was only Delia.

The girl was stood awkwardly in the middle of Patsy’s room. Patsy walked straight past her and pulled a box of extra bedding from under her bed. She didn’t have anyone she thought would ever come to stay but it never hurt to be prepared.

Delia watched her with a furrowed brow.

Patsy nodded to the bed as she pulled out the sleeping bag. “Go on. Get comfortable.”

“Where are you sleeping?” Delia asked, glancing at the neatly made bed like it might bite her.

“Right here,” Patsy declared as she rolled the bag out on the floor.

“No Pats, I’m not kicking you out of your own bed!”

“Of you’re not.” Patsy rocked back as she opened the vacuum storage bag containing a pair of pillows that rapidly regained their size. “I offered it to you.”

“I…but…well surely we can just double up?”

Patsy stared at Delia incredulously. Share a bed? They’d dozed off together on the sofa once or twice, but in a bed? In that close proximity? For the whole night? Surely that was too much! “Deels it’s a single!”

“I know but…I’m happy to sleep against the wall I don’t take up much room…and I’ll probably sleep like the dead after all that…and to be honest…” The girl avoided Patsy’s gaze as she fiddled with the hem of her t-shirt. “…I could kinda do with a cuddle.” Her eyes flicked up to Patsy’s for only a split second.

Running her hand through her hair, Patsy sighed. This was such a bad idea. “All right, get in.”

Delia looked at her with such open relief Patsy couldn’t find it within herself to keep second guessing the decision. She nodded to the bed again and Delia flashed her a grateful smile before crawling over the sheets and laying with her back to the wall.

A smile crossed Patsy’s face unbidden watching Delia snuggle under the duvet. When she looked settled Patsy switched off the light and carefully climbed in beside her, laying on her back and lifting her arm in invitation. The girl seemed unusually hesitant to indulge in the embrace, but soon her head was resting on Patsy’s shoulder, a nervous fist lying lightly on her stomach. Patsy didn’t want to let this be an awkward experience for either of them, so taking a leaf out of Delia’s book she pulled the clutched hand over her middle, and wrapped her own arm snuggly around her friend, drawing her in close.

Delia sighed. “Thank you Pats.”

“You’re very welcome Deels,” Patsy murmured, refusing to analyse the tingly feeling running through her right now. Delia needed this. So she took a deep breath and closed her eyes.

“Pats?”

“Mmm?”

“You have a really hard chin.”

Patsy laughed openly. “I knew you were hard-headed, but I didn’t realise how hard!”

Delia giggled, and lifted her head from Patsy’s shoulder. Patsy’s breath caught when the girl placed a light kiss on her jaw before snuggling down again.

“Good night Pats.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi guys, 
> 
> Really trying not to be one of those horribly whiney/needy writer types, but have I screwed up with this one? Or has everyone just gone comment-quiet because of summer?
> 
> Praise comments are always lovely, but you know what finding out what doesn't work for you lot is incredibly useful, if I've produced a damp squib then I want to know about it. Writers improve a lot quicker with critical feedback (if they're open to it) so please do tell me if I've started writing crap.
> 
> Many thanks, love and respect,  
> Jo


	3. Ghosts of Halloween Past

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> There's a party to go to, but Patsy isn't interested.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ok it's 2 days late, and it's also rushed. Apologies for any errors or missing words. I'm procrastinating.

Checking her head gear in the mirror one more time, Delia picked up the bowl and yanked open the front door.

"RAAAAAAWWWRRRRRRR!"

The squeals of delighted children brought a huge grin to her face, despite this being the 14th group.

"What are you supposed to be?"

She pushed the broken wok up higher on her head so she could see past the curls of fabric over her eyes. "I'm the Flying Spaghetti Monster!" She surged forward, throwing lengths of fabric in the air. "Bow down before my noodly goodness!"

One little voice piped up above the giggles.

"You just made that up!"

"Err I'll have you know," Delia shoved a fist on her hip indignantly. "The Flying Spaghetti Monster is the figure head of a legally recognised religion, Pastafarianism!"

"I don't believe you!"

"And that is your right. Now," she shook the bowl. "Who wants sweets?" 

 

*******

Patsy felt heavy. She hated the lethargy that seemed to come hand-in-hand with her stronger and more painful memories. And sometimes the happy ones too.

She'd managed to fashion herself a nest out of blankets and pillows as she lay on her bed. She was overheating, but simply could not be arsed to do anything about it. Instead the redhead gazed vacantly forward, only half paying attention to The Repair Shop streaming through the iPlayer on her laptop, listening to the chatter coming from the kitchen.

A gentle tap on the door forced her to move just a little. "Yeah?" she called out, wincing at the creak in her voice. She'd been hiding away for most of the day.

The door opened just a crack and familiar and expected blue eyes peered in. There was only one person who usually visited when she was hiding.

"Hey Pats, may I come in?"

Patsy nodded and returned to her original position. 

A quiet clatter over by her desk took her by surprise. She glanced at the foil-covered plate, and then up at Delia.

"I kept you back some Chinese in case you got hungry."

The redhead felt her brow creasing as she took in her friends appearance. She had a wok on her head, probably the one Chummy had broken the handle off last week, but it was painted blue and full of holes. It had ping-pong ball eyes on springs wobbling around on top of it. The welshwoman also had a brown bundle on each shoulder, and the rest of her outfit seemed to consist of curled strips of cream and yellow fabric. "What are you supposed to be?"

Delia shrugged. "Flying Spaghetti Monster." She removed the head piece, and shook out her hair. "I wanted to go as Cthulu but I couldn't afford to make the tentacles."

Well that answer clarified nothing. And it must have shown on Patsy's face. 

The young woman sauntered over and tapped the space bar on her laptop, pausing the programme, and knelt down beside the bed. "Wanna talk?"

"Thought you were going to the union?" Patsy asked evenly.

"Trixie's still doing her make-up, think we've got a while." Delia folded her arms on the mattress and rested her chin on them. "What's going on sweetheart?"

Patsy closed her eyes and sighed. For years it had been so easy to avoid these conversations, to deflect or just keep to herself. And then Delia arrived in her life. And it was suddenly a lot harder to bottle it all up.

"I don't want to bore you with it."

Delia rolled her eyes. "I wouldn't have bothered coming up here if I wasn't willing to listen Pats." She placed a hand over the bemused redhead's arm, her thumb stroking goosebumps onto her skin. "I've told you before, and I'll keep telling you if I have to, but I am here for you. You've been alone long enough Patsy Mount."

Patsy buried her face in the pillow, knowing a red flush was spreading across her brow as her eyes stung with tears. "You're a right royal pain in the arse Delia Busby."

The welsh girl giggled. "You love me really."

The older woman's chest squeezed. Surely Delia couldn't know how she...

"So what is it about Halloween that's got you hiding?"

"It just reminds me of Grace," Patsy huffed.

The hand on her arm squeezed. "Tell me."

She glared at her young friend, then rolled her eyes. "Fine." Pushing herself into something closer to a sitting position allowed her to stall for a moment. "Shanghai doesn't really do Halloween, but we lived in an area populated by international business types. So thanks to the Americans, we had trick-or-treating. Grace loved to dress up, usually as some kind of animal, and we'd go around knocking on doors with father while mother manned our front door. The families took it in turn to host a big party every year, so after we'd filled our sweet bags we'd all go to another big house somewhere down the road with ridiculous decorations and posh food. Pompous show-offs, the lot of them. Everyone went all out. Us kids would all be sent home to Nanny by 9 o'clock, but we thought we were so grown up celebrating with the adults for a couple of hours. Getting Grace to settle afterwards was impossible, she'd be bouncing around our room like a ping-pong ball. Nanny would be lucky to get her face paint off her, but there was no way you could get Grace out of her costume, no matter how cumbersome. She'd eventually tire herself out and be deposited into bed fully dressed." Patsy allowed herself a chuckle. Delia's hand slid down to grasp her fingers, a small smile on her face. "I just always wondered if she'd still love it as much. What sort of things she'd dress up as now? What she'd have done at boarding school, we weren't allowed to celebrate it there, you know, Catholics and all that."

"I can't imagine how hard it must be always having those sorts of questions," Delia murmured. "Thank you for telling me Pats."

"You didn't really give me much choice," Patsy laughed mirthlessly, sweeping back her hair.

"You always have a choice," the brunette raised her eyebrows at her. "I might push you a little, but you can always say no."

Patsy felt one corner of her mouth lift in acknowledgement. 

"May I make an observation?"

She drew a deep breath to steel herself for whatever wisdom Delia was about to impart. "Go on."

"Please don't think I'm being disrespectful to your memories. How you're feeling now is entirely understandable and it is valid." Delia paused, and Patsy saw the a nervous look flicker across her face. "But those were traditions you had as a child. It was a different time and a different place. Traditions are important, but sometimes you need to let them evolve. So maybe, when you're ready, you can start building your own traditions around Halloween? Maybe they can honour Grace's memory somehow, but I think you need to reclaim Halloween in your own way."

"I'm not coming out tonight!" Patsy snapped, feeling the start of a rolling boil in her chest. 

"I'm not asking you to," Delia raised her hands in defence. "I'm not stupid enough to push you that hard, I know you a little better than that. I just want you to think about it. Maybe for next year? Or whenever you're ready."

The redhead set her teeth and stared at her lap. People were always trying to change her and she was sick of it. 

Fortunately she didn't have the opportunity to let loose on Delia.

"Oi Spaghetti Hoops!" Val shouted up the stairs. "You coming or not?"

"Just a minute!" Delia called back.

Patsy watched out of the corner of her eye as the girl stood up.

"You don't have to think about it tonight Pats," she squeezed Patsy's shoulder, and it took a lot for her not to shrug it off. "Get some rest, the trick-or-treaters are all done and we probably won't be back 'til late."

And she left. She walked away and left Patsy alone with her racing thoughts and apparently bruised feelings. How dare she? So Patsy did what she did best, stomped it all down inside, threw herself back into her nest of blankets and pretended to watch her programme.

*******

Two hours later, Delia was sat at the table, watching the mayhem that had taken over The Rat And Emu, nursing her 3rd glass of...well something neon orange and sickly sweet. She'd tried to pluck her spirits up and join in, she really had. But her heart just wasn't in it. Maybe she really had pushed Patsy too far. Maybe she should learn to keep her mouth shut. She'd seen the anger building in her friend's eyes, but she'd kept going, so certain she knew what was best for the redhead.

The screech of a stool being dragged drew her surroundings back into focus.

"I say old thing," Chummy mumbled from behind a Charlie Chaplin moustache. "You're looking rather down in the mouth."

"Sorry Chummy," Delia tried to smile. "Just something on my mind."

"Something?" Trixie questioned, leaning over Delia's shoulder to retrieve her drink, stabbing her in the back with her Madonna cones in the process. "Or someone?"

The brunette sighed. Of course everyone knew it was Patsy occupying her thoughts. "I think I've really upset her this time."

Across the table Valerie, clad in an orange prison uniform, snorted into her glass. "The woman is permanently upset about something, I don't know how you can tell the difference." She yelped as Lucille punched her shoulder. "Seriously! Will you stop doing that!"

"I'm practicing aversion therapy on you." Lucille settled into a seat, her Khaleesi dress floating up around her, while a papier mache dragon wobbled precariously on her shoulder. "I'll stop hitting you when you stop being a prick."

"You're not even gay!" Val protested. "If this was a come-on it might be cute but it's not!" 

Lucille frowned as she sipped her drink. "I'm very concerned about the type of women you date!"

Chummy placed her bowler hat on the table. "What's happened Delia?"

"I think I just went too far, made suggestions she wasn't ready for." She swirled her drink, only just realising it had rather a lot of glitter in it. She put down the glass and pushed it away. "I knew she was getting pissed off but like a coward I just ran away. I should've stayed and let her shout at me, helped her work through it." The brunette dropped her head into her hands, the wok slipping forward and thudding onto the table. She undid the strap holding the stupid thing on her head and dropped the whole thing on the floor.

Trixie rubbed a hand across her back. "You're not a coward sweetie. No-one wants to be shouted at by the person they love."

Delia turned to Trixie so fast she felt her neck click. All she could do was stare at the blonde, wide-eyed.

"Yes sweetie, we all know you're in love with Patsy. Well, except maybe Barbara." Trixie nodded to their friend who was dressed as a grape, covered in balloons. She was playing Twister.

The welshwoman dropped her head to the table and groaned.

"Oh Delia, don't be like that!" Lucille squeezed her shoulder. "We all think it's sweet."

Another snort and a punch from the other side of the table confirmed Delia's suspicions that not everyone thought it was sweet.

"No, it's pathetic." Delia sat up and pressed her fingers to her eyes. "She is way out of my league."

"I hardly think so old bean," giggled Chummy. "I think you make quite a charming couple actually."

Delia glared at the taller woman. "Don't call us a couple, I can't afford to get my hopes," she huffed. Oh god, this was all she needed. All of their mutual friends knowing her big secret. Now she'd always be aware of them, watching her, analysing every move she made around Patsy.

A squeak from Trixie pulled her back to the Union bar.

"Val, Lucille, would you be darlings and go to the bar please?"

"Err, we've only just got a round in?" Val held up her almost full glass.

"Yes but I want to make sure we Don't Run Out!"

Why was Trixie talking through her teeth? She seemed to have developed a nervous twitch as well, her head jerking to the side spasmodically. Delia's brow furrowed in confusion. "Trix are you all right?"

"Absolutely fine sweetie, now go on you two, spit spot!" The blonde flicked her hand at the bemused pair until they gave in and wandered off. "Come on Chummy, you wanted me to touch up your make up didn't you."

The taller woman found herself dragged to her feet. "But I'm not wearing any..."

"Exactly, so move it."

Delia watched on, thoroughly confused. "I'll just guard the table then shall I?"

"You do that sweetie!" Trixie called over her shoulder, hauling poor Chummy into the crowd.

The welsh girl flopped back in her seat, a little miffed truth be told. She didn't mind guarding the table but for Trixie to just expect it of her. She shook her head, taking in the mass of inebriated students around.

The disco lights flashed off something metallic in the crowd. Something that looked...like a colander. It was upside down. And it was on someone's head. She let her eyes drift down, past strands of what looked like pasta, to the sheepish face of one Patsy Mount. She knew she was staring incredulously, but she just couldn't help it! Patience Mount was standing in the middle of the Rat and Emu bar wearing a pasta colander on her head. 

The small fish hook smile the redhead flashed her snapped her out of her daze in time for Patsy to reach the table.

Delia looked her up and down. Besides the daft headgear Patsy was wearing a white short-sleeved shirt and black trousers, a sign around her neck reading "Do you have a moment to talk about His Noodly Goodness, The Flying Spaghetti Monster?"

The brunette couldn't hold back the laugh any longer. "Patsy, have you come as a Pastafarian?"

Patsy inclined her head in confirmation.

"Oh my god," Delia giggled. Then a thought hit her. "Oh my god no! You're not a Pastafarian! You're a Patsyfarian!"

A grin split across the redhead's face as her giggles joined Delia's. "Crossed with a Mormon I think. There wasn't much information about what they wear apart from the colander."

"I absolutely love it." Delia reached out to feel the strands hanging from the colander and gasped. "No way! That's actual tagliatelle! I never thought I'd see the day you waste food!"

Patsy shrugged. "Its justifiable when it's all yellow label at Tesco." 

The welsh girl continued to stare at her friend in wonder. She knew she shouldn't, who knew what could be read from her facial expression right now but she was genuinely stunned by this turn of events. "I just can't believe you're actually here. Pats I'm so proud of you."

Patsy shook her head, looking nervous. "I'm probably not going to stay long, it's all a bit much in here. But you were right, it's time to start evolving traditions. And I'm sorry I got so angry at you."

"No, I'm sorry." Delia grabbed the redhead's hand. "I shouldn't have gone that far, or I should have at least stayed and let you be angry at me."

"No Delia, honestly it's..."

A series of loud pops and a squeal drew the two girls attention to the Twister matt, where Barbara lay sprawled on her front between 3 people, most of her balloons the apparent casualty of the game collapsing.

Spirits starting to lift, Delia stood and grabbed Patsy's hand. "Come on, lets have some fun."

********

Patsy found herself ensconced in one of the deep sofas towards the back of the bar, watching her friends do the Cha Cha Slide. She was surprised that she'd actually enjoyed herself. They'd all played daft party games for a while, though she'd gotten a little flustered when she found in herself in a precarious position with Delia beneath her on the Twister matt. She was astounded by how flexible and how strong the girl was. Trixie had kept her occupied on the dance floor for a while after that, coaching her through The Time Warp and The Monster Mash, until the costume competition began. Someone, she wasn't sure who but she had her suspicions, had entered her and Delia into the couple's category. They'd won third place. She wasn't allowing herself to analyse that. 

But now she found herself sitting with a not particularly pleasant green drink in hand, and that weight was edging back in. It might have been the alcohol, she'd necked a couple of shots of whiskey for Dutch courage before leaving the house, and she seemed to have had a lurid coloured cocktail of some description or another pressed into her hand since arriving. Or it could just be that she was tired. It was nearly 1am, later than she'd intended to stay out. It was also about the time Grace used to finally run out of steam and collapse into bed.

Suddenly the glass was being removed from her hand. She glanced up to see Delia set it aside, a lightly drunken grin on her face. 

"Delia?"

"Get your coat Pats, you've pulled."

The blood drained from Patsy's face as she tried to find a coherent response. "Err Delia...I really don't think...

Delia rolled her eyes, and grabbed her hand. "I'm joking, come on I want my bed!"

The redhead allowed herself to be pulled to standing, she didn't think she had the strength left in her legs to do it herself anyway, her heart was thundering away like a freight train!

Together they stumbled through the crowd, eventually making it out the door. Delia swayed a little as the fresh air hit her.

"Steady on there young'un," Patsy giggled.

The welsh girl glared playfully up at her as she plopped the wok back on her head. "I am not drunk. Just tipsy."

"Of course you are," the redhead smirked.

Delia simply grabbed Patsy's hand and wrapped the taller woman's arm around her shoulder, before striding away, pulling her friend with her.

Patsy knew she shouldn't read too much into any of this, or notice how well Delia fit against her side, the brunette's arm slipping around her waist once they were a couple of streets away from the Union bar. But right now she didn't have the energy to fight it, so she allowed herself to indulge, just for a little while.

They didn't talk on the way back, except for Patsy instructing Delia to hold her breath when she started hiccuping. But the quiet between them was comfortable. And for that she was exceptionally grateful.

It didn't take them long to walk home, and when they reached the landing Patsy finally plucked up the courage to break the silence.

"Delia? Were you actually that desperate for your bed?"

The smaller woman turned to her. She did look tired, Patsy noted, her eyelids were heavy and she was pressing her teeth together as she often did when she was fighting exhaustion.

"Yes Patsy, I'm knackered." She surprised the redhead by stepping forward and wrapping her up in a hug. "But you didn't look like you were having fun anymore either, so two birds one stone," she mumbled against Patsy's chest.

The taller woman gently hugged the girl back, pressing her cheek to the top of her head. "In that case thank you. For everything."

Delia squeezed her tight for just a few seconds, but Patsy wanted them to last for a lot longer. Instead, she stepped out of the embrace and turned her friend around, steering her towards the door adorned with a huge Welsh flag.

"Go on. To bed with you."

The girl giggled as she stood in her doorway, smiling lazily. "Sweet dreams Patsy."

"Good night Delia," Patsy smiled back as she turned towards her own room.

"Patsy?"

The redhead looked back as she reached her door.

"I really am proud of you for coming out tonight."

Patsy didn't know what else to do except nod an acknowledgement, opened her door and slipped inside.

Flopping down onto her blanket nest Patsy couldn't help thinking the future was going to be full of a whole heap of other challenges she hadn't imagined facing when she applied to study nursing. But just maybe Delia Busby was worth a little bit of bravery.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, apologies for the shameful plug. But I am holding a rehearsed reading of my first short play collection, lightly inspired by our favourite pair, in a couple of weeks, so if you live within spitting distance of London and don't work a 9 to 5 maybe come down and join us?
> 
> https://jomerchant.rsvpify.com


	4. Patient Patience

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Turns out Patsy isn't very good at being ill. Who'da thunk?!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know loads about 1950s/60s nursing training but nothing about modern training, and with all the other research I've got going on I hope you'll forgive me for inaccuracies in that.
> 
> Also, if it's too detail heavy and thus dragging please let me know. 
> 
> This chapter is dedicated to Wheely_Jessi who's made a valiant effort at keeping me sane lately.
> 
> And finally, it's the anniversary of my first ever post on here tomorrow! So thank you to all of you who have stuck with me in that time. I have many more stories to tell (ask Jess, she's seen the spreadsheet), so I hope you'll indulge me for a while longer.

Another rude and persistent buzzing punctured her oblivion, forcing her to surface from the depths of a blessedly dreamless sleep. Cracking open one crusty eye, Patsy felt around on her bedside table, her fingers shaking as she gripped her phone. The glare of the screen sent a bolt of pain along her optic nerve and into her brain. Nope. Phone was apparently still not an option. Although with sleep tugging insistently at her consciousness it wasn’t really that big a problem. She remained aware long enough to note that her pyjamas were clinging to her skin, before oblivion pulled her back under. 

*******

Shakily balancing the over-laden tray on one arm, Delia tapped on the plain wooden door. She didn’t really expect a response, but on the off-chance that Patsy was awake privacy had to be respected. Satisfied that there were no signs of life, she cracked open the door and peered into the darkness.

Patsy was sprawled on her front, twisted tightly in her duvet, but with one arm and one leg hanging off the bed. 

The brunette winced at the pain evident in the redheads tight brow. Kneeling down and setting the tray aside, she stroked away sweaty strands of hair from what was becoming her favourite face. She winced at the heat that met her fingers.

“Pats?” she whispered.

The only response she got was something between a snuffle and a snort. Delia smiled indulgently, despite knowing Patsy would be mortified to find out she was making such undignified noises.

“Come on you poor poorly monkey.”

This time she got a rumbling groan in reply.

“Not a monkey,” Patsy mumbled.

“Sure you are,” Delia declared, grabbing a flannel from the tray and dipping it in it’s accompanying bowl of water. “You’re a very naughty monkey. Chummy says you refused your painkillers at lunchtime.”

“I don’t need them,” the redhead whined, pulling a pillow over her head. “I’m fiiiiiiine!”

“Mhmm.” The welshwoman replaced the pillow with the cool damp flannel, pressing it to her friends overheating forehead.

The groan that escaped Patsy’s throat made Delia’s fingers weak and she nearly dropped the flannel, transfixed by the image of Patsy’s face relaxing, the hint of a smile on her mouth.

Cool your jets Busby, she internally scolded. Perhaps it was time to practice that new nurses facade she’d been advised to generate? Keep it professional?

The welshwoman swallowed hard. “Does that feel nice cariad?” She was glad to hear her voice come out almost level. But cariad? Christ’s sake.

“So nice,” Patsy whimpered.

“You know if you’d just kept taking the paracetamol your fever might have broken by now.” Delia could already feel the heat seeping through the flannel, so shook it out and re-dipped it.

“Please don’t lecture me Deels,” the redhead rasped. “I’ve survived years without mothering, I don’t need it now.”

“I’m not trying to mother you.” Delia swept the hair away from Patsy’s neck and deposited the refreshed flannel on the flushed skin.

“You are!” Patsy whined. “You’re bossing me around, I can make my own decisions I can look after myself!”

Delia felt her own eyes sting watching frustrated tears roll down her friend’s face. “Patsy, I’m not questioning your agency, if you genuinely want me to go away I will.” She wiped the woman’s tears away, allowing her thumb to remain and stroke along a well-defined cheekbone. “But surely you know you’ll get well quicker if you let us look after you?”

Patsy turned her face ever so slightly to press against Delia’s hand, a move Delia suspected to be an unconscious one. “I can’t be a burden,” came the smallest whisper.

The brunette’s chest felt as though it was being crushed by iron bands wrapped around her ribs, pressure rising into her head. Her hand slid into Patsy’s hair, gripping her skull and forcing the woman to look her in the eye. “Now you listen to me,” Delia felt the growl rising in her chest. “You are not, never have been and never will be a burden. Never. Do you understand?”

A small nod loosened her grip on the redhead, but it was the look of shock in her eyes that made Delia kneel back. She pushed her fingers through her own hair, breathing hard to release the grip on her chest. “I’m sorry cariad,” she murmured. “That wasn’t meant for you. Not that the sentiment doesn’t stand.” She risked a glance at her patient and found her watching her avidly.

“Who was it for?”

Delia waved her hand, praying Patsy wouldn’t push. “I’ll tell you another time. What I meant to say is, if I was ill wouldn’t you be looking after me?” She watched Patsy’s expression shift from confused to sheepish.

“Of course I would,” she muttered. “But you shouldn’t be in here, I don’t want you getting sick.”

Delia snorted. “Pats I’m welsh, we’re made of stronger stuff than you southern fairies.”

Patsy glared at her incredulously. “Delia you’re from south Wales, that would make you a southern fairy too.”

“Ahh but you are from Shanghai, which is geographically a lot further south than Pembrokeshire, making you a true southern fairy,” Delia grinned triumphantly. “Now,” the welshwoman eyed the tangle of covers wound around her friend. “Do you think you can sit up?”

Patsy eyed her suspiciously. “What for?”

“Levi heard you weren’t well, and had his sister bring in some proper jewish chicken soup for you.” Delia smirked at the image in her mind of the earnest young man, not much older than Patsy, currently stuck on the ward they were both observing on, with a mystery illness. At least she hoped she was smirking. Despite being 99.9% sure Patsy was attracted to women, she wasn’t sure if she was also attracted to men. And even with her own Kinsey scale 5.9 status, she knew Levi was attractive. And Patsy had been spending what little spare time she had on the ward sat with him. Delia might be a staunch optimist, but this was one area where she was loath to get her hopes up, and the sight of Patsy and Levi sitting together in intense conversation gripped her stomach uncomfortably.

And now Patsy was avoiding looking at her. “That was very sweet of him.”

Delia looked away and snorted. “Yeah ‘cause he’s sweet on you.” When she looked back the redhead was watching her steadily.

“Don’t be ridiculous. I’m just trying to help him get a diagnosis.”

The welshwoman raised an eyebrow. “Doesn’t mean he’s not sweet on you. Any bloke getting that much attention off you would be.” She knew her tone had shifted from playful to almost petulant. Subtle Busby.

Patsy continued to watch her, seemingly thinking, before shrugging and tugging at the bedsheet where it had come untucked from the mattress. “I couldn’t care less.”

Choosing not to read anything into that response, Delia instead focused on the state of the bed. She knew Patsy hated things being untidy, the rest of her bedroom was immaculately organised, and she was certain Patsy would be more comfortable in a properly made bed. So she stood and started searching for Patsy’s other leg in the tangled duvet.

“What are you doing?”

“What does it look like I’m doing? I’m trying to make you more comfortable.” Her hand found Patsy’s foot twisted in the fabric, her fingers brushing over the sole.

The redhead jerked her foot away with a squeak. “Please don’t do that!” she whined.

Delia actually smirked this time. She’d discovered that Patsy had ticklish feet a few weeks ago. After a heated Mario Kart match one afternoon Delia and Val had ended up wrestling on the kitchen floor. Every time the got too close to Patsy on the sofa she’d try and nudge them away with her foot, so they turned on her, grabbing a foot each. Delia had come away from the encounter with a swollen ear and a bruised shoulder, Patsy fighting back until she’d extracted a vow on Delia’s Welsh pride to never, ever tickle her again.

“Sorry cariad, but you’ve done a good job of cocooning yourself here.” She flashed a smile at her friend, only for it to be answered with a grimace and a squirm. “What is it sweetheart?”

“I’d just…I’m not really comfortable with you…moving the covers.”

Delia frowned. “How come?”

Patsy squirmed again, burying her face in the pillow. “Because…I’ve been really sweaty for three days…and I can’t get to the shower…”

The penny dropped. “Ah. You’re worried you smell?”

“I KNOW I smell!”

Sighing, Delia took a seat on the edge of the bed, gently stroking Patsy’s back. “Is that why you’ve chased away everyone who’s come up to keep you company?”

Patsy shrugged.

“Come on Patsy, we’re nursing students. And you’re ill. We’re not going to judge you for being a bit smelly.”

The redhead continued to avoid looking at her.

“Shall I open the window? A bit of cool air would probably do you good.”

A small nod. She’d take that as progress.

“And after you’ve had some soup…” Patsy groaned, Delia ignored it. “…If you wanted, I could give your back a wipe down? Might make you feel fresher?” She glanced at Patsy cautiously, trying to gauge the woman’s reaction. “Or if you’re not comfortable with me doing it I could get Cynthia or Lucille?”

It was a long moment before Patsy responded. “As much as I’m dying to be cleaner, I’ll need to think on that offer.”

Eventually Delia wrestled Patsy out of the twisted duvet, shaking it out and draping it over her desk chair while she practiced her patient rolling to straighten the bedsheet. Of course proper practice presumed access to both sides of the bed but Patsy’s slim single was against the wall, and Delia found herself awkwardly kneeling on the edge of the mattress and leaning over Patsy to tug the far corner into place. Normally she’d quite enjoy the opportunity to be so close she could feel the older woman’s body heat, but the fact she was basically a human radiator right now was a stark reminder of the circumstances. 

Delia was sweating by the time she’d got Patsy propped up on her freshly-plumped pillows, her muscles aching just a bit, which was strange given that it usually took a lot more to knock the puff out of her.

She flopped down on the bed next to her friend, soup pot in one hand and spoon in the other. Patsy reached across to take the spoon but Delia moved it out of her reach. “Oh no you don’t.”

The redhead glowered at her. “You are not feeding me.”

Delia glowered back. “Patsy your hands are shaking so much you’ll get it everywhere. Save your energy.”

Patsy only managed a few spoonfuls, but it was better than nothing. The brunette took a quick taste before she put the lid back on. She sneered at the pot. “Better than what I was going to make for you,” she grudgingly admitted.

“I doubt it,” Patsy murmured, resting her head on Delia’s shoulder.

 

********************

 

Patsy lay still, breathing steadily, trying to will her limbs to relax. This was a terrible idea but she couldn’t bear being this unclean any longer. The smell made her feel 10 years old again.

She could probably have persuaded Delia to help her take a bath, but that would have required her being unclothed in front of the young woman. She knew Delia would be discreet and respectful, but she couldn’t deal with that right now. At least with a bed bath she could mostly remain covered.

A shuffling at the door drew her out of her thoughts. Delia backed into the room with a newly laden tray, which she deposited next to a stack of clean towels.

“Right then, shall we get you on your front?”

Delia’s voice was a little breathy, and there was a hint of pink in her cheeks. Patsy felt a blush surge up her neck as she watched the girl standing over her, hands on her hips. “Actually Deels, do we have time to do more than my back?”

“How much more?”

“Well, everything if possible.” The blush was throbbing in the tips of her ears as Delia’s eyes widen. “If it’s too much bother then don’t worry…”

“No no…umm…it’s fine.” The welsh girl turned to the tray and dipped a flannel into the bowl of warm water, wringing it out thoroughly and handing it to Patsy. “Give your face a wipe over and I’ll find you some fresh pyjamas.”

Patsy noted the pink tinge spreading across her friends face as she took carefully measured steps to the chest of drawers, tentatively opening the second one down and appearing relieved at the content. The redhead ran the flannel over her face, behind her ears and over her neck, scrubbing at her hairline. Her hair was grim but until her fever broke there was little point doing anything about it. She watched Delia rummaging through her selection of nightwear. She hadn’t really seen Delia like this before, like all her confidence was just draining away. She didn’t like it. “Delia if you’re uncomfortable with this…”

Delia turned around with a pair of Patsy’s striped flannel pyjamas in one hand, the other raised defiantly. “Honestly Patsy, it’s fine.” Patsy didn’t believe her. “I just…I know how private a person you are and…I just don’t want to fuck this up and upset you.”

“You won’t,” Patsy reassured, looking the brunette square in the eye. “I trust you.”

That almost seemed to do the trick, a shy smile breaking across Delia’s face as she glanced down at the clothes she was still holding and ambled back to the bedside. But the smile was short lived once she was stood over Patsy again. Her whole face looked like a flaming tomato. Patsy thought she looked adorable.

“Out with it Deels, what’s wrong?”

The brunette turned her eyes to the ceiling and sighed. “I err…I’ve only done this once on the demo dummy and I don’t…How would…” Her hands were attempting to fill in the words failing to come out of her mouth, and they kept floating up towards her chest. If Patsy hadn’t been so anxious herself she’d have very much enjoyed seeing Delia lost for words. “…Should I…”

“Seeing as I’m not a dummy or incapacitated,” she held the flannel out for Delia to take, “how about I do everything I can reach and you facilitate Nurse Busby?”

“Facilitate? Yes,” Delia nodded vigorously, her shoulders relaxing considerably. “I can do that. Very sensible Nurse Mount,” the girl gabbled, dropping the flannel back in the bowl, sending water over the side. She glanced at Patsy sheepishly.

Patsy rolled her eyes. “Hand me a towel please nurse.”

She was so exhausted it was inevitable that the procedure would be a bit of a catastrophe. Hell she couldn’t even get her pyjama top off by herself, the long sleeves defeating her before she’d even started and left her pleading for Delia’s assistance. With a towel tucked around Patsy’s chest for modesty, the brunette had swiftly pulled the top over her head while staring at the ceiling Patsy noted as she emerged from the garment. Delia had then sat on the floor with her back to the bed, dipping, soaping and wringing the flannel and blindly handing it to Patsy before exchanging it for the rinse flannel and then another towel as Patsy washed her own torso and arms. 

The redhead just had enough energy left to shuffle onto her front, clutching at her pillow and clenching her teeth and psyching herself up to reveal her scars to Delia for the first time. The girl knew they existed, Patsy had told her about them during a drunken conversation not long after Freshers, but she didn’t think that had been enough to prepare her young friend. The car accident had left her badly marked, the top of her back shredded by the broken glass of the windscreen, the skin of her left shoulder and hip destroyed by her skidding impact with the road. The cosmetic surgeons her father had paid to repair the damage were some of the finest in the world, but her back was still a mess of skin grafts that had taken with varying results, while many of the glass lacerations had just been left to their own devices once the stitches had done their job. No one besides medical professionals and the matron at school had seen this part of Patsy. Not even her father. Delia was the only person she could comprehend revealing them to. Like she’d told the brunette, she trusted her. Not that made it any less excruciating to do.

“Ready,” she lied.

She heard the air forcefully leave Delia’s lungs, but it was only a moment before the sound of water reached her ears, and then the soft cloth was moving over her skin. Delia was so gentle it made her eyes sting, and she pressed her face harder into the pillow, a shuddering breath leaving her body.

“Pats?” The cloth left her skin. “Are you all right?”

Patsy nodded. “It’s fine,” she forced through her tight throat.

“Do you want me to stop?”

The older woman turned her face out of the pillow, she could just make Delia out, hovering in her peripheral vision. “I’m ok. Honestly.” A wave of apprehension swept through. “Do you want to stop? I know it’s ugly…”

“No it’s not Pats,” Delia leaned over to squeeze her wrist. “It’s only an outward testament to your resilience. Just tell me if it gets too much.”

Carefully the cloth was returned to her skin, the soap on it helping it glide smoothly over the rough and uneven surface. 

By the time the rinse cloth was applied she was almost able to relax, able to acknowledge that she felt better for being cleaner. And almost brave enough to make a further request as Delia patted her down with a towel.

“All done. Should I put your pyjama jacket on before we continue? I found your favourite in the drawer.”

“Umm…” Maybe not quite brave enough.

The welshwoman appeared in her eyeline, kneeling by the bed. “What is it sweetheart?” she asked, stroking stray hairs away from Patsy’s face.

All Patsy could see in those gorgeous blue eyes was warmth and caring and…perhaps something else she really wasn’t ready to acknowledge. However, she felt her bravery surge a little and took a deep breath. “May I ask another favour Deels?”

Delia rolled her eyes. “You know this is nothing to do with favours right Pats? I’m not expecting anything in return. What do you need?”

“Would you…” Patsy sighed out her anxiety. “Would you mind moisturising my back? They’ve been getting a bit tight lately.

Her young friend smiled and patted her arm. “Absolutely.”

With surprising haste the bed dipped as the brunette sat beside Patsy, rubbing lotion between her hands. “Let me know if it’s too much pressure.” She laid her hands on the small of Patsy’s back and pushed up. A tingling warmth spread through her muscles.

“Oh my god,” Patsy groaned.

She felt Delia’s movement falter. “Too hard?”

“God no it’s perfect!”

Delia chuckled as Patsy’s hands finally released her pillow, one arm falling limply off the side of the bed.

“How are you so good at this?!”

“Practice,” Delia said nonchalantly, running her hands across Patsy’s shoulders and back down her sides. “My older brothers are both rugby players, they get tight backs if there’s a lot of scrummage.”

Patsy all but melted as strong hands plyed the muscles of her mid back. She giggled to herself. “Matron never applied my cream like this at school.”

The welshwoman barked with laughter. “I should think not.”

Several minutes of quiet passed, Patsy more than content under Delia’s ministrations. No-one had ever touched her like this, and it was glorious. If only there was a way to get Delia to do this again sometime.

Delia’s touch slowed and gentled. “Can you even reach all these Patsy?”

“Most of them,” Patsy huffed. “The consequence of being perpetually single, you get pretty flexible if you need to be.” She laughed but it was hollow.

Delia hummed, sliding her hands up Patsy’s back one last time. “Well you’ve got me now.”

Patsy’s heart thudded painfully.

“I mean for the moisturising thing not…you know what I meant.” Delia grasped Patsy’s wrist and slipped well worn fabric up her arm. “Seriously, please feel free to ask anytime.” 

She manipulated Patsy’s other arm into the jacket, the cloth comforting against Patsy’s skin. Apparently Delia was a mind reader now.

With a bit of wriggling, Delia made quick work of divesting Patsy of her pyjama trousers, hastily wiping down and drying her legs. Patsy felt a little guilty when the girl narrowly avoided a knee to the chin while cleaning her toes, but she had been warned several times.

Delia had then turned away with a furious blush on her face. “I’ll leave you to sort out your…” her hands were trying to be eloquent again, this time gesturing to Patsy’s pelvis, “…to sort the last bit.” She’d left the flannels and towel within reach and fled the room.

Patsy released a sigh. She cared about Delia, and she’d never felt so at ease around someone, but lately there was an increasing, unaddressed tension when they were in a room together. 

But there were other matters at hand. She had to get her knickers off and she was running on fumes. It took some fantastically graceful gymnastics (she swore she looked like a tortoise on it’s back, despite being on her front), but she eventually kicked off the offensive item of clothing and did the necessaries, before collapsing onto the mattress. She just wanted to go back to sleep.

She groaned when Delia knocked in the door.

“Just a mo!” She did her best to cover her hips with the towel but suspected she still had some bum on show. “Ok,” she croaked, hoping it was loud enough for Delia to hear.

The brunette shuffled into the room with one hand clamped over her eyes. “Are you decent?”

“As I can get on my own, yes,” Patsy grumbled. “Can you help me into my pyjama bottoms? I don’t have the energy left for pants as well.”

And so the final task was completed, Patsy valiantly ignoring Delia’s shaking hands as she pulled the pyjamas up to the redheads thighs. This whole ordeal was humiliating enough without unhelpful thoughts throwing their two penneth in.

“I’m not looking I promise,” Delia declared as she pulled away the towel and held the trousers still for Patsy to make the final shuffle.

Once more the older woman collapsed onto her bed, utterly spent.

“All over cariad,” Delia cooed as she retrieved the duvet and carefully laid it over Patsy.

The redhead groaned. “This fever had better break soon, I never want to go through that again.”

“I’m sorry Patsy,” Delia murmured, crouching beside her to tidy up.

Patsy noted the down turn of her friends mouth. “It’s not your fault Deels.” All she could reach from here was Delia’s head, so she stroked the long strands of dark hair. “I’m sorry. I should be thanking you instead of whinging.”

Delia removed Patsy’s hand from her hair and kissed her knuckles. The redhead felt her eyelids drooping as she smiled at the welsh girl.

“Don’t fall asleep yet,” Delia commanded, grabbing a packet off of Patsy’s bedside table. “Will you please take a couple of tablets? I hate seeing you in pain.”

The redhead sighed, but she nodded. With everything else going on she’d been able to push her headache to the back of her mind, but it was now stabbing at the back of her eyes.

Delia tenderly placed two painkillers on Patsy’s tongue and held the straw of her water bottle steady while she took long grateful draws of the cool liquid.

“Thank you,” Patsy murmured, her eyes now too heavy to keep open.

“Sleep now cariad,” whispered Delia. “I’ll check on you later.”

The press of Delia’s lips against her forehead suffused Patsy with a warmth unrelated to the fever as weighty oblivion pulled her under.

 

**********

 

The welsh girl wiped at the tears streaming down her own cheeks as the redhead curled up in her lap subsided into whimpers, her grip on Delia’s pyjama top gradually relaxing and her knuckles regaining their natural colour. Christ she felt so useless. Every time Patsy started to settle another nightmare seemed to grip her. She just hoped that rocking her friend and whispering gently to her was in someway soothing. 

“Delia?”

“Pats?” She pulled away far enough to look the older girl in the eye, not convinced she was actually awake yet. “Can you hear me cariad?”

“Yes,” the redhead croaked, glancing around confused. “What’s going on?” She reached out and wiped at Delia’s cheek. “Why are you crying?”

“Sorry sweetheart.” Delia caught Patsy’s hand before it retreated and kissed her palm. “Your last nightmare was a bad one. It’s hard seeing you so distressed.”

“I’m sorry,” Patsy murmured.

Delia’s heart clenched at the remorse in her friends eyes. “No Pats, don’t be.”

“What time is it?” Patsy tried to push herself upright, but she simply didn’t have the energy to manage it and collapsed back against Delia with a groan.

“Nearly 3, your fever broke about an hour ago, but the dreams continued so all I could do was hold you.” Delia was suddenly hyperaware of the intimacy between them. It had felt only natural to hold Patsy close and comfort her, but now that Patsy was finally awake she was starting to doubt herself. “I hope that was ok?” 

Patsy turned her face to press against Delia’s shoulder, nodding slightly as she released a shuddering sigh. “Thank you,” she whispered.

The welsh girl gave Patsy a squeeze, feathering her lips along her hairline. Soon the redhead began to grow heavy against her. “Come on Pats,” she coaxed as she tried to manoeuvre out from underneath her. “Lets see if you can get some proper sleep now.” She eased off the edge of the bed and helped Patsy stretch out a little more, straightening the duvet and the pillows as she went.

“You should go back to your room Deels,” Patsy groaned. “You need sleep too.”

Delia knelt down to Patsy’s eye level. She could feel the guilt radiating off her friend. “Do you want me to go?”

“You’ve done too much for me already,” Patsy sighed.

The brunette shifted to try and make eye contact with the evasive redhead. “Do you want me to go?” she asked again when she eventually managed to lock eyes with her.

Patsy glanced away again, but gave her head a small shake.

“Thought not,” Delia chuckled. “Budge up.” She slipped under the covers and Patsy quickly re-situated herself, resting her head on Delia’s chest and wrapping an arm tight around her waist. Delia ran her fingers through strands of red hair, slowly massaging her friend’s scalp. “I’ve got you Pats,” she murmured. “Sweet dreams.”

 

**********

 

As she began to surface from sleep, the first thing Patsy noticed was that she was hot. Very hot. Oh please don’t say the fever’s come back again! Her pyjamas were sticking to her skin, and she kicked away the duvet as she stretched, groaning. She was grateful that her joints didn’t seem to ache as much this morning, her head wasn’t quite clear yet and she was still exhausted, but compared to the last few days she felt significantly better. So why was she so hot?

A groan from behind her reminded her that she was not alone in her bed. And now she identified the source of the heat. She had a human-sized hot water bottle pressed against her back.

With some effort she rolled over, taking in the pained tension in her friend’s sweaty brow. “Oh Deels, I warned you.”

“Not now Pats please,” the brunette croaked. “My head is splitting!”

Patsy wrapped her arms around Delia, drawing her close as the welsh girl clutched at Patsy’s pyjama jacket. “Poor poorly monkey,” she muttered against her hair.

“Not a monkey!” Delia groaned.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Anyone who follows Kate Lamb on social media knows it's that time of year again. Vote for her to go to the arctic using the link below! Sorry I still don't know how to imbed links on here...if anyone can tell me how I'd appreciate it.
> 
> https://polar.fjallraven.com/contestant/?id=7218


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